Land of Milk and Honey
by theintuitivealmond
Summary: Chloe is in love with Marinette and is unsure of how to accept this knowledge. As the weeks go by, will she ever be able to understand this attraction? If you like the story subscribe, share, comment, or follow. Your responses, good or bad, always keep me going :D
1. Chapter 1

Chloe Bourgeois, born one warm summer night, was a rock of a woman. Grand, chiseled, and cold, the young Bourgeois was weak only to her misgivings and quite astute in deriving pleasure from the shortcoming of her peers. My initial meeting with the young Bourgeois had been in our earlier days, years before she was to become the marvelous Queen Bee or later Fashion giant her mother had wanted her to be. In grade school she had danced into a class of twenty, her lacy and poppy-yellow slippers nearly falling from her feet as she pirouetted on one leg to the other. Behind her stood her old butler, Sisyphus in posture and saintly in his patience, holding her luggage, his name unknown to her and would stay unknown til the day 2 years later when he was inevitably let go. The young bourgeois leapt along the front of the class, boundless in her steps, knocking items off the teacher's desk and then raising her leg to hit the pieces she missed. The old school master, Miss Camille, a teacher of twenty years, had not been the most fervent supporter of her actions.

"Miss Bourgeois," she had spoken," this is not the proper form in which a lady should act. Lady's should be disciplined and well-behaved. Fix everything on the desk this instant!" Miss Chloe, it seemed, was deaf to the old crone's words for she continued her performance, her one-act play reaching its crescendo. Miss Camille was quite used to being ignored by her pupils; all students would go on to listen to her in due time. Young stallions like these needed to be broken, just as her mother had done to her and her grandmother had done so before. "And slippers are not allowed in the class, Miss Bourgeois." She added. "Take them off this instance before you are sent home for incompliance!" Miss Camille grabbed Chloe's arm, ending her routine. Miss Camille's hands were crinkled and old, their once soft touch calloused over from years of her profession. Chloe looked to her and sniffed. "This is my room, and nothing you do can stop me." The young mistress snapped her fingers and at once her butler put down her things. He released Chloe from the old woman's grasp and sternly took her into the hall.

The door slammed shut behind them.

Half an hour passed before the door reopened. A secretary spoke to the class. Camille had chosen not to come back. She had been a teacher for 30 years.

I saw an ample amount of Chloe over the next few years, mostly from afar for I never saw it in my favor to speak directly to her; most people never had that option. As much as Chloe enjoyed being the center of attention, she never cared to subjugate herself to the presence of others; the only people worth knowing were the ones you could use. Sabrina Raincomprix, daughter of the Chief of Police, had come into Chloe's ownership early on, the young redhead filling much of the roll her old butler had left unfulfilled. Adrian Agreste, son of the world-renowned designer Gabriel Agreste, filled her need for a soulmate and future lover; she had no need to look for a blond prince when one lived so close to her. When he became famous, he would escalate her to new heights by being the perfect husband, model, and pedestal for her hubris. The world would see, through her steady manipulation of him, that Chloe Bourgeois was a force to reckon with. While alone, Chloe would often toast to herself, sipping from the fine wine her parents were unaware she possessed; great things came from drops of brilliance and she was an ocean. She would not drown in the mire like those other simpletons, she would go on to be greatness, a new monarch more prestigious than any Louise before her. She was a young Marie Antoinette: there was nothing she could not have.

At least it was so until she found the one thing she knew she could never have: a black-haired girl named Marinette.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the 14-year-old daughter of Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng, two middle-class bakers with a shop in eastern Paris. Marinette was an awkward girl, clumsy, and often too nervous to understand the extent her light-hearted nature had on others. She was an angel of a woman, uncorrupt and kind, and often the butt of Chloe's jokes. Chloe preyed on Marinette's innocence, her kindness, much as cat preyed upon a mouse not as a source of food but a source of amusement. Chloe loved to see Marinette squeal, to receive a response from her agitations for it was not often that anyone stood up to Chloe Bourgeoise. As the weeks then months went by, Chloe slowly realized she began looking forward to these exchanges. Within moments of walking into class, their battlefield now a middle school, Chloe would seek out Marinette or someone else Marinette knew to trade injuries with, a pleasantry that immediately warranted action from the young Dupain-Cheng. Marinette would respond, denounce Chloe's choices, and then the teacher would come in and end the argument. If it was a bad day, a friend of Marinette would intervene, for everyone was Marinette's friend, and suddenly Chloe's fun would be cut short; she would have to wait another day to have her daily fill of this woman.

It was on day when their exchange was cut short that Chloe began to question the nature of Marinette's interactions. It was during a warm day in Paris, the sky blue with little clouds scattered about, that Chloe had her first epiphany. The ancients will tell you, as it is so, that nature is the source of all true knowledge, but to the young Bourgeoise it seemed to be alcohol. She had been on the roof of her parent's hotel, sipping a glass of wine, when she first understood that she may be in love with Marinette. At first attributing this emotion to her sweet drink she promptly poured her glass over the roof onto the bystanders nearby, but on further deliberation, she realized her emotions were not unwarranted.

Chloe understood she had an attraction to women as much as she did men. Her appreciation of beauty began with the dozens of models, both female and male, going in and out of her hotel at a young age. The glamour, the shine of the bodies, the soft nature of the female model's skin always attracted her as much as the sculpted and stiff nature of the men. Before long, it became apparent to Chloe that she preferred the models for more than just their looks. As a child, Chloe had labeled this awkward attraction as an illusion of the eye, a dissociation with beauty and a corruption of the mind. But as she grew older, her preference towards women never changed. And as she sipped on her wine, she understood a little more of her nature.

Chloe was attracted to Marinette. She enjoyed Marinette's soft hair, her light-hearted voice, the warmth she brought others; to Chloe's contempt, this knowledge unnerved her. For it was unlike Chloe to be put-off by an attraction to someone so lowly and so abhorrent. There were millions of beautiful people in the world to make her question herself, millions of other scenarios to make her reexamine her life.

If anyone was to have her question her disposition towards the sexes, why did it have to be Dupain-Cheng?


	2. Chapter 2

Chloe Bourgeois, daughter of Mayor and Entrepreneur Andre Bourgeois, lived in the top floor of the Le Grand Paris Hotel which her father owned. The bourgeois namesake always boasted of how up-to date and modern the structure was even with the hotels long and distinct history. The building had housed stars, singers, presidents and diplomats from around the world and, to the Bourgeois' glee, had narrowly escape destruction during the French Revolution. This fact, while not true, can date back to hotel's origins. Le Grand Paris hotel was not of French revolution age but had been built in early twentieth century under the construction of one Deniel Bernard. Deniel, he himself not of French Origin but of Norwegian blood, had hoped to imitate a neoclassical look of the revolution and had almost succeed before the funding of his project was suddenly cut, most of his works charity derived from his own income, and within five years of beginning his lifelong project he died destitute on the streets, drunk and muttering of how the rich not only owned the means to production but the means to live. Andre's ancestors bought the hotel at auction and refurnished its entirety within two years.

Le Grand Paris hotel, the center of Bourgeois life, was within walking distance of the Collège Françoise Dupont, a secondary school which boasted students with optimum test scores but little else. When the decision of a middle school was first proposed within the Bourgeois family, Chloe predisposed the idea of the Francoise Dupont for it was closer than any other school and would require little on her part to be accepted. Her decision was, in-part, influenced by her knowledge that Adrien Agreste was rumored to attend the following year and from her own passion to narrow the distance between work and play. While the initial idea was not well received, the following barrage of "I love you" and "Daddy, if you love me…" was more than enough to pay her tuition in full and keep the love in her father's eyes. Chloe's mother, Audrey Bourgeois, reacted little to her daughter's choice and in truth, would not realize Chloe was in middle school till the end of her first semester. Chloe began every school day with the same ritual: she would awake an hour before class, shut off her alarm, go back to sleep, and wait for Sabrina's call to wake her. On days Sabrina would be unable to call, she would be forced to drudge to Chloe's door through whatever weather Paris could bring, climb the stairs (for Sabrina was never given leave to use the elevator since ,as Chloe put it, "a little exercise wouldn't kill her"), and knock on Chloe's door. It was not often that Sabrina missed a day, but when she did, Chloe would never let her hear the end of it. It was on such a day that a curious incident occurred: Chloe arrived early to school.

Chloe, in a hazy stupor, suspected her red-haired servant of having slept in and raced to school to find that she was the first one there. Realizing her mistake, she had begun walking back to her home only to understand such action would take effort. Chloe drudged to her desk and sat down; she was no mood to walk home. In her frustration she began tapping on her desk. The rhythmic beat of her fingers made her understand how alone she was; no one else could hear it. She wanted someone to view her anger. She wanted someone to understand her annoyance. But no one was there. Chloe was not used to being early, much less alone. Chloe sat in her usual seat, at the front, her seat located as close to the teacher and as far away from the window as she could have it. Her homeroom reminded her of a half-furnished amphitheater, each elongated desk housing two students which ran five rows back and was split in the middle, one side of the room mirroring the other in look but not occupants. Chloe enjoyed being in the front: it made students look at her whenever they answered questions and allowed the teachers to see when they had lost her attention. On the desk across from her sat Adrien and his best friend Nino, and behind them sat Marinette and her best friend Alya; as for the rest of the class, Chloe never bothered to learn their names. Sabrina, when she was there, occupied the seat next to Chloe's.

Class slowly started pouring in, but no one took notice of Chloe's unusual presence or clear annoyance. As the fifth person entered and dismissed Chloe's predicament, she began pondering if she should wait for someone to point out her distress or if she should let everyone know. Marinette walked in a few moments later and was the first to recognize Chloe's predicament.

"Oh Chloe, you're here early!" Marinette wore the same outfit she wore every day, pink pants and a white shirt under a light-black blazer. The neckline of the shirt was ordained with a black stripe that accented Marinette's pale neck and embroidered on the right side of her shirt just above her breast was an array of blooming cherry blossoms, blooming in vigor and beauty just like her. Marinette was of mixed-race, her father of Italian origins while her mother was Chinese. While Marinette had received much of her looks from her mother, Sabine, it was apparent that her father was with her in her eyes. Her eyes, while dark like her mothers, were large like her father's, an unusual occurrence that often made Marinette self-conscious.

"No, duh." Chloe replied. "Some of us like to put work in ahead of time. Nothing you would know understand, Dupain-Cheng." Marinette's easy-going attitude faltered. She pretended to laugh off the remark, but the strain was visible in her big eyes. Chloe wondered if she had gone too far too early; usually their conversations ramped up a bit more before insults where flung. "I guess you're right, Chloe. That's why I'll put in extra work today to show you I have your strength as well!" Marinette nodded, confirming her own statement, and sat down, the prior conversation now over. She turned to Alya and asked if she had done the assignment. Chloe was rather upset; she enjoyed their exchanges to be a bit longer. Class went on as normal. Halfway through the period Sabrina ran in, her alarm finally having done its job. Chloe said nothing to Sabrina as she sat down: she was just like the others, not worth a response.

Class ended. As Chloe readied her things to go, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. While she would have been annoyed to find it was Sabrina, she was more annoyed by the fact that it was Alya.

"So, Chloe, are you going to our Autumn Awesomeness event at the park Saturday? Everyone else in the class said they're going, you're the only one hasn't who hasn't RSVPed just yet. I'm sure a rich girl like you has galas and masques to attend, but a rebellious foray into some peasant depravity wouldn't kill you, now would it?" Chloe did not quite care for Alya: from her mode of dress (a plaid button up over a white shirt and American blue jeans) to her nonchalant attitude, Chloe was increasingly annoyed with the woman, especially with how familiar she was with her.

"Umm, hello? Why would I want to go to a peasant party? It's not a lion's job to tend to the mice. Go give your charity pitch to someone who's buying."

"But Chloe," Marinette interjected, for she had been quietly listening to the conversation, drawn by her innate nature to stop any mend over any incongruities "it'll be fun. Please, won't you come? We'll all be there, even Adrien. They'll be food, and drinks, and games, and Adrien, I meant not Adrien—I meant he will be there, but he won't be the main attraction, unless that will attract you to the event, which in that case it is an attraction—"

Chloe cut her off. She was aware of Marinette's attraction to Adrien; everyone in class but him knew. And while Chloe was still unsure about her feelings for Marinette, she was not about to lose in her competition for Adrien's affection: she was a bourgeois, she would never give an enemy the upper hand.

Against her better wishes, Chloe agreed to go.

"Yay," Marinette cheered," see you Saturday. Bring any snacks if you can!" Chloe nodded that she would and used the opportunity to escape the room. It was only as she was sitting in her next class that Chloe realized she had forgotten Sabrina. And by then, she had long forgotten why she was annoyed with her in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

Chloe spent the better part of the week finding a way to get out of going to the Autumn of Awesomeness. Her plan had been simple: lie until her words became the truth. Her initial idea was to feign sickness, but this was discarded early on; she knew it would never work, heaven knew she was too healthy. Her second idea had been to plan a sudden trip, but a task like that would be take much more effort than she was willing to put in. Twice Chloe had been footsteps away from telling Alya she could not attend, but both times she stopped herself. Chloe was not without her reasons to go: if she didn't stop Adrien and Marinette from being together, who would? Not Alya, who constantly pushed the two together. Certainly not the class, either: they would never assist the young Bourgeoise. Chloe had control over many factors in her life. Where she went to school, what college she would attend, and what type of husband she would marry along with how much he would make was not beyond her grasp. Compared to the common woman, Chloe was an Atlas of Influence. But to her chagrin Chloe, as rich and powerful as she was, was not exempt to the forces of nature, the worst being _chance_. When Thursday came, her nervousness at would could be sabotaged all of her attempts to dismiss the gathering; on the contrary, she began confirming with others she would go. Why wouldn't she go if her Adrikins would be there? How absurd!

Come Friday afternoon, Chloe found herself quite exasperated by the entire situation. She left school early, quite annoyed with the prospect of seeing everyone the following day, and returned to her home where she promptly plopped into bed. Her phone vibrated, most likely Sabrina wondering she should wear for the following day. Chloe ignored the messages; there was no advice that would make that woman presentable. Chloe lived in the Imperial Suite on the top floor of Le Grand Paris hotel, a room so large and elegant it housed only presidents before the birth of the young Bourgeoise. Her room was an array of raspberry, cerise, and eggshell, the color of the room meticulously ordained by the best of Paris designers and ornated with only the finest of décor, her sofa-top Italian with the cedar that supported it imported from Japan. Her living-space was expansive yet comfortable, her living room connected to her bedroom which in turn connected to her bathroom. Chloe's bathroom was furnished with the tidings fit for a young noble as well, the marble used for her tub chiseled in Greece while the gold that ordained her privy had been mined by Kenyan aborigines. Her bathroom contained a closet that held her many toiletries as well as a secret compartment that housed her Ladybug outfit, a purchase that had included a stuffed ladybug pillow centered on her bed. Chloe reached for a plushie and grabbed the felt of its soft shell. She squeezed the fabric of the bug to her chest, quite amused with how often she had done this when she was younger: she had been a different girl then, more frantic and prone to emotional bouts. Oh, how things changed.

Chloe laid in bed for with nothing particular to do. She played with her stuffed animals, occasionally stood up to walk, ordered food, and looked out her bedroom window. A few hours after dusk, she suddenly had the urge to make the best out of a bad situation: she would dress well for tomorrows event! Yes, if she was stuck going to something she didn't like, she would at least look good while there. She emptied her closet onto her bed; a sea of yellows, blacks, greens, reds, and every color imaginable splashed onto her covers till, before long, the cloth-mandala became indistinguishable from her bedspread. Chloe grabbed a yellow cardigan and began her work creating the perfect outfit. Chloe spent the better part of five hours styling every piece of clothing; in each case, nothing worked: every outfit looked like it tried too hard; she was too plain in her clothes, her body did not curve where she wanted it to, and by the end she regretted having tried in the first place. Her room was littered with failures, clothes strewn everywhere, which added to the work the maid would have to do when she entered. Chloe plopped into bed and hugged her ladybug. Nothing fit like she wanted it to. In her remorse, Chloe forgot why she had even bothered trying to dress up. No matter what she wore she would look better than everyone else, what did it matter? But she wanted to know if people would notice; she wanted to know if Marinette would notice.

Marinette, to her, was a living contradiction: a woman with so many weak qualities could not be so attractive. Attractiveness of the flesh was different than that of the soul, but in the case of either, Marinette was severely lacking. Marinette was ornate and pale like a swan, her beauty transgressed by the awkwardness of her limbs and the callously sweet way she held herself. Often disoriented, it was wonder the girl could walk let alone speak on her own. The only point Chloe could lavish praise on the young Dupain-Cheng was her eyes: Marinette had beautiful eyes. But were eyes themselves enough to warrant attraction? Such matters seemed improbable. Out of all the women Chloe knew, Marinette was the least physically satisfying; Ayla would be a much better choice, she was the more well-rounded woman. She was buxom, well nurtured for their age, and quite a fox with her constant smiles and chipper attitude; Chloe could do worse in a mate. Sabrina would also not be of the lowest caliber, but she had the qualities and looks of a mouse, a door mouse a that. While Sabrina was a good plaything, she would not make a good partner, much less a meal. Of men there was no one but Adrien, but even he had his faults: he was too perfect. And as amazing as he was, he was a difficult person to get a hold of. While plain, Marinette was always there. And she really did have beautiful eyes. Deeper than oceans. Brighter than moons.

Chloe fell asleep around midnight, quite belligerent about the whole week's events. For her, the day had been a waste: she would go dressed as she always had.

…

With the gathering beginning at two, Chloe made sure to be awake by noon. She readied her hair and flicked open her phone to text Sabrina the time for their departure. Halfway through her message, she noticed Sabrina's texts from the day before. Sabrina's father had decided to take her to the river for the day and she would not be able to attend the event. Chloe pursed her lips and threw her phone on the bed. Thirty minutes till two, Chloe took a deep breath and left her room.

If all else failed, she planned to be there on time.


	4. Chapter 4

The Palace Des Vosges was a square 140m x 140m wide and close enough to the College Francoise that every school-related event, one way or another, found itself setup inside the park's beautiful walls. The park, which had once housed roman hands, was the center piece of an affluent district that had housed celebrated artists such as the late Victor Hugo and Nicolas Restif who, care as she might, Chloe did not know. The park, originally a mansion known by the "Hotel de Tournelles", had once housed royalty until the accidental death of Henry II who, impaled through the eye, had died in agonizing and abusive pain. Before it had been a mansion, the area had been wooded and quite beautiful by what explorers at the time had stated, the area a close second for the kingdom young Aeneas had envisioned. The trees which all presently stood within the square were not from the original leaves that had once fallen hundreds of years before, but from foliage planted not fifty years before when efforts to rejuvenate the area by improved grounds and infrastructure had been their most fervent. A surge of new policies had ushered in new growth at the time, a feat that doubled the growth of investment and had seen the expulsion of immigrants and homeless in an effort to raise land values. To this day, the Palace Des Vosges was one of the highest grossing squares Paris and drew many tourists with its beautiful walls.

The trees, which were cared by Spanish caretakers, were lined near the border fences with housed the only flora the park had. The middle area and subsequent path had been cleared of fauna, laced with dirt that had been imported from northern France, and in the center more than fifty years of age was a fountain, quite large and new, where the statue of Louis XIII had once stood. In the far corner of this square, where the class-gathering was to be, was a carousel which drunken efforts had seen the subsequent shutdown and rebuilding of, and a plot of green and virgin land. The class, without knowing, would be celebrating a gathering which had started 70 years before which was meant to honor returning French soldiers and whose livelihood was now an extenuation for young lives to facilitate friendship and make merry of their long and endless days.

Chloe arrived early, a neoteric habit she would rid herself of at first chance. A few individuals from class welcomed her when she arrived, but without a proper name to color each of their persons, Chloe was at an odd with how to greet them or if even to acknowledge them; she chose the latter.

Among those who had arrived were Juleka, Nathaneal, Ivan, and Rose who had come early to save their location and to setup blankets for the event. The group, some standing while others sat, had created a quilt of blankets intertwined like vines, rich in color and all quite haggard with use. The group was joined by Max and Kim, a duo who had woken not more than thirty minutes before and had subsequently met the other while walking not a mile away.

The groups initial conversations, while awkward, slowly grew warm as everyone grew accustomed to seeing the other outside of class, a luxury so few of them took advantage of. Conversation between civilized beings was a difficult task when every party involved was aching to speak, so to combat this issue neither party said anything. After a little egging from Rose, their quiet instigator, the group of friends began talking and eating, nibbling on sweet treats and drinking from sugar colas that Ivan, a young connoisseur of bad foods, had imported from America. With the conversation turning from timid to relaxed, the group began to delve into an uncomfortable foray to acknowledge the elephant in the room: Chloe refused to socialize with them. They were quite used to her icy attitude at the best of times, but now it seemed that she would not acknowledge them at all. She stood far from the group, idly looking away and more often than not checking her phone before once more turning away again, her blatant disregard purposeful in her silent discontent. Juleka, the quiet and dark-haired, wondered if she had come alone for Sabrina had not appeared with her; Nathanael, quite the inquisitive artist, believed she had come only to see the one she loved: Adrien Agreste. After some time, Rose felt it time to deal with the issue and invited Chloe to join them, a favor nobody wanted but felt needed to be offered. Tentative like a feral cat, Chloe had initially decided against the invitation, but soon enough her need for amusement drove her to be with the others.

Rose was a compassionate young girl, reminiscent of a fairy in Celtic lore her mother used to say. Her hair was light as the sun's rays, her dress as livid as her rosy cheeks. She was of a special class of woman, outspoken when in danger and quite when not, not unlike a guard dog or puppy in their early years. Rose was a bright young woman who enjoyed showing everyone that the color of their heart was the most beautiful for who was it to say that for her, my vibrant reader, your heart was not the most vibrant of them all? Her ideals, to her discontent, were also her downfall for people were made of atoms, not colors, and no matter what she did she could never receive a positive reaction from the young bourgeois. "As I was saying," Rose continued, her voice soft yet shrill," I wish we would do things like this for class more often. Oh, think of all the fun we could have, things we could eat! The best friendships are sweet like pastries; we should start planning our next meetup! We could go swimming—oh wait, Nathaneal, I know you have memories of the river you would rather not revisit—or the museum. I heard from Alya that a new pastry shop opened not far for the south lawn of the Eiffel Tower, we could go there. We could make an afternoon, no, a day of it! It would be fun seeing everyone, running like the herd, gallivanting like rabbits! Oh, don't laugh, Juleka, it was supposed to be cute, not funny. Come on, everyone, we should go together! The best of friends break bed and life was always better with a little milk and honey!" Rose's words were met with positive reactions from everyone in group except the young bourgeoisie. Rose's words were second to her present dilemma: she had forgotten to paint her nails.

Rose was sure Chloe hadn't heard her. "Chloe, would it not be amazing to keep spending time like this?" Chloe blew dirt off her fingers. "Amazing for who? I would never waste my time with you drivel willing, let alone for hours on end." Rose, while quite used to dealing with the young bourgeois, fidgeted under her words, each syllable laced with a certain amount of weight that when compounded tended to paralyze the young fairy; when faced before a lion, what mighty man would not tremble in fear? Intellectually, Rose quite admired Chloe for her blunt words; they were quite unlike her own. The young bourgeoise was crass and had the uncanny ability to speak her mind, an ideal that Rose had not been born with nor had quite learned in her short life. But with this admiration came an ounce of disdain for it was this bluntness that also irked Rose as for it seemed that, with all the money in the world, civility was an item that could still not be purchased.

"Isn't that a bit harsh," Kim, a young Korean boy, chimed from the group," you can't make assumptions about us without giving us a chance; that's how prejudices are made. While I may not speak for everyone, I think I'm pretty fun to be around; I'm no box of puppies, but I'm just as good. And so is everyone else." Juleka and Ivan nodded, while Max did his best to be unnoticed; he didn't enjoy conflict. Rose piped in. "We're not too bad if you get to know us, Chloe! I know we haven't known each other long, but we could change that any day. The richest gardens were all made from an initial step; let us flourish together! We've known you for so long, Chloe. Won't you be our friend?" Rose was quite earnest in her words, she did quite like the young bourgeoise. In another life, she would have given anything to be sisters with the young princess, so much more beautiful and refined than the rest, but as her life lived outside of the realm of fiction, she hoped to at least be friends with the young woman. At least, for once in her life.

Chloe looked away from her fingers and looked up. Not far away, she could see the body of Adrien Agreste walk through the sculpted gate. Without saying a word, Chloe jumped up and ran to greet her Adrien, leaving the group in quite an uncomfortable silence. Rose, quite accustomed to this precession, swallowed back her tears.

"On second thought…maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea."


	5. Chapter 5

Adrien Agreste was born inside the Hôtel-Dieu de Paris one starry night to Gabriel and Emilie Agreste, five minutes before midnight and five years before Emilie left. It had been a been a Monday when she had given birth, for his mother had assured him it had been the only good Monday she had ever had, and a Friday when she had left for Adrien assured himself it was the only Friday he had ever wanted to have. Her departure had scarred the young Agreste, like the talon-scratch of a wild cat, an improper-nursed wound which he would spend years nursing. Adrien, at first, had blamed his father for her departure, but he knew his father's love: he had loved his mother. Three days after her egress, the young Arien had chanced, by then late in the day, upon the weeping form of his father in the dining room, the older man seated at the head of the table, where once upon a time, he had shared the seat with his wife; he knew he felt the same. With her departure, Emilie took something important from the Agrestes, a soul, a fire that kept happiness burning within the vast Agreste estate. As the years passed, Adrien grew to be a companionate but timid child, withdrawn in nature but quite bold. He was a rare sort of gentleman, determined and unapologetically motivated through the bleakest of events, a sentiment he would often repeat to himself as his father began to grow more tyrannical .Gabriel Agreste had not taken the departure of his wife in a healthy way, nor would one wholly believe he would for Emilie had been the only women he had ever loved, and love, as a force, can raze the greatest of lovers virulent; this love pollinated the seeds of remorse that would grow deep inside the older Agreste.

Pygmalion in birth, Adrien was restricted to what designs his father would sculpt. Due to his father's words, Adrien studied fencing, acting, and fashion for his father's want, were his wants. Modeling, a pastime the young Agreste rarely enjoyed, had been orchestrated by his father and had continued until the young Agreste had become one of the more famous models in Paris, a sentiment Adrien did not want or care for. Do as he may, the older Agreste hearkened himself to Adrien: he reminded him too much of his wife, in his presence he felt the need to both destroy and embrace the essence the young Agreste created. Adrien, growing up mostly on his own, learned the practice of being independent while on a leash, not unlike a cat who, when testing the bounds of its home, would pounce and explore every nook of its dwelling before confining the outside world out of its reach. Gabriel Agreste, a notorious recluse after his wife's departure, rarely let the young boy out and often had him accompanied whenever out of sight. Adrien tolerated his father's obsessive love much like a mistress would tolerate the beatings of her lover, and it was on a day of toleration that Adrien's father applauded his sons commitment and let the young Agreste go to an event on his own, granted a body guard would be parked two blocks down and would be waiting his return.

Adrien, blond-haired youth who kept his hair short and eyes forward, found himself quickly bombarded upon his arrival to the park by the presence of one Chloe Bourgeoise, his first and earliest friend. "Adrikins! Oh my, what took you so long? I had to sit with the other paupers without you here! Would you believe the boring things they talk about? It's like listening to a crow's caw, but without the ability to ignore. What took you so long, I can't believe you made me wait here without you!" Adrien laughed and assured her their classmates weren't as bad as she thought they were, all they took was a little getting used to, a sentiment Chloe wanted to share, but could not dignify for how dreadful they were. The two made small talk before Adrien assured her they should interact with the rest of their classmates for he knew Chloe's devilish tendencies and he was sure that if he did not join the others it would just be them the entire time. The rest of their class arrived not long after Adrien did, the stout and rainbow-haired Mylene followed soon by the short and red-haired Alix with Nino and Alya coming an hour after. Adrien, unaccustomed to prolong exposure to his classmates, delighted in spending time with everyone else: he gave his salutations and joked when he could, quite adept in socializing even when his moments to practice were far and in-between.

The afternoon was filled with an abundance of games, food, and talk. Alix brought her famous cookies, the ingredients a closely guarded secret which surmounted to nothing more than double the amount of sugar, while Alya brought a fruit plate she had carved and organized herself. When all the excitement of meeting wavered and boredom set in, as it does when all options of extravagance have been pilfered, a few of the classmates led by Kim explored the park. On a dare, which some say was started by Nino while others said Max, Nathaneal found himself climbing a tree to which he quickly fell from, an action that struck terror and then laughter in the entire group. Or, almost all of the group; Chloe did not find herself in these festivities for she was quite annoyed with her day. Marinette had not shown. It was a quarter till 5 and the young Dupain-Cheng had yet to arrive. Chloe pined her annoyance on Adrien who did his best to please the young bourgeoise. Her insistences were demanding and unsubstantiated, but still Adrien did his best to satisfy her, a sentiment that did not go unnoticed by the young bourgeoise; it was better she had chosen him rather than Dupain-Cheng as a potential mate; he would make a fine husband one day.

"Adri-kins, do you imagine how we'll be like when we grow older? I like to believe we'll be together forever like we were when we were children. Do you remember when we were younger—

I'm sure you do—and you would come over to play at the hotel? Daddy loved seeing you scamper around; you were such a troublemaker! Remember when you hid yourself in the Butler's corridor because you thought it was a good hiding place? And then I didn't find you. We spent hours searching for you, Daddy was afraid we would have to tell your father we lost you. Could you imagine? Your father would have torn down the hotel after giving his quite a beating. Oh, Adri-kins, we need to spend more time together like that, you know you can still comeback whenever you want? Please do so. It is dreadfully dull without you there!"

Adrien, ready to reply, was quickly silence by a fierce gale that ruffled the young man's hair and blew the young bourgeoise's cardigan. Mild yelps and shouts were heard from the kindred souls in the Place des Vosges for above them swung a lone figure, red, covered in black spots and swinging wildly away.

It was Ladybug.

Ladybug, as the woman was known, appeared one fall afternoon and, upon her arrival, had changed Paris forever for she was gifted with abilities no other human possessed. Individuals with powers like hers were said to exist only in fiction, the very mention of Ladybug conjuring figures such as Medea and Sita, and whose very existence challenged established norms of what was known and want we knew. In one fell swoop Ladybug had taken Paris by storm, her presence an incarnation of joy and hope, her body an avatara for bliss and beauty with the powers she possessed great and god-like. But all good begets its own trouble as light begets its own shadow, and before long monsters in the form of "Akumas" began appearing as well. No one knew what an Akuma was; the common rumor was they were spirits that possessed the bodies of the vulnerable and changed them into ghastly and, quite often, odd caricitures of themselves. As it was, Ladybug was the sole person who could rid a body of these possessions, on her way to stop another Akuma, did find herself within the park viewers eyes, much as she found herself in all the hearts and soul of Paris. Ladybug even found her way into Chloe's heart. Ladybug was the only person in the world Chloe respected, looked up to even. She wished she could be as great as Ladybug one day; she was someone she wanted to call friend. And to Chloe's surprise a few months back, it seemed this would be a reality for Chloe was gifted the same power Ladybug possessed for, like her, Chloe could transform into a superhuman using one of many "Miraculous", which was also the source of Ladybug's power. But Chloe's time with a Miraculous was scarce, for it did not belong to her, it belonged to Ladybug, much like Paris.

Chloe glanced away from Ladybug only to catch her companion springing away.

"What are you going, Adrien?"

"My father suddenly needs me back at home," he rushed, "I need to go."

"But we barely got to hang out! You can't leave me like this!"

The two went back and forth quickly, Chloe quite indignant while Adrien struggled to find an excuse to leave. He couldn't leave, Chloe needed him there: if he left, she had no one else.

After a heated debate, the two decided that they would meet again on Bourgeoise's time whenever she wanted: all she had to do was name a time and place. Adrien sprinted as the conversation ended, his words soon forgotten. For the third time that day, Chloe was alone and quite miffed at the situation. She did not want to stay, nor did she want to leave for she had nothing else to do that day and while she disliked her classmates, she hated boredom much more. In the end she stayed, too disappointed to leave but too obstinate to go.

Not long after, Ladybug's partner, the titular Cat Noir, bounced by.


	6. Chapter 6

A week after their excursion, Chloe found herself with Adrien once again. She was on the Rue Saint-Dominque waiting calmly outside Le Petit Fille, a small coffee shop that she had insisted on, though not for her taste in coffee for she did not care for the drink, but because it was far enough away her school that she was sure no one would accidentally intervene in her meeting: she had made sure no Mongols or Trojans would intercede into her domain nor would they dare cross anywhere near here. She was dressed in fall wear that, while plain, accentuated her small bosom and nubile figure to the point where any fine gentleman walking her way would notice that she, blond and petite, was an attractive woman and one who they would care to treasure for she would use whatever weapon she had in her fight for love and it was her dream that Adrien would be hers by the end of the meeting. Maybe it was due to her own inadequacies that Chloe enjoyed the body of women, she thought, for it was in her previsions of the same sex that she found respite for her own shortcomings. Her mother, while beautiful, had never developed farther than a pupa of a woman while models she knew grew to be buxom, succulent to the eyes like ripe fruit that only the most adventurous of travelers would pluck. Adrien, for his part, had shown himself as she had asked, his hunched figure quiet and unbecoming of him. He seemed bored, his mind caught between the boredom of youth and the shackles of a promise that kept the kind-hearted chained much as Prometheus had done so long ago. It was in moments like these that Chloe lamented the opposite sex for, if life was like a garden and love the fruit of labor, it seemed men would never tell when the fruit was ready for picking or overripe: it was the destiny of men, it seemed, to pluck for the fruit only once it had gone rotten or when worms had set in and gorged on the memory of young, virginal flesh.

On a day as cool and bright as that, I was lucky enough to have been in the area when the following events occurred, for it seemed luck had been on my side when it came to the business of the bourgeoise. I had been enjoying quite a pleasant day as it had been so, visiting a friend who had traveled overseas to see me and who quite enjoyed the French sites which were a wonder to him while quite boring to me. I believed Chloe would have noticed my presence in an open crowd, but this was not so for she was too intertwined with what was happening to her which, as it were, was the best way to describe her life till that point; Chloe had been waiting a long time for this. It had been years since she had been given the chance to spend any extended period with Adrien, a drought which had left her barren and cold. Quite unaccustomed to being alone with him once more, like a dog receiving it's first touch of love after having spent the duration of its life with an abusive owner, Chloe was quiet at first, not sure what to say or act, attentive to Adrien's gaze but quite unsure of where he looked. Adrien, for his part, sat not far away wearing his standard dress, a white shirt over a black and striped one, and on his palm, maybe to match the shirt or to look cosmetically pleasing, a Black heart.

"It has been some time, has it not, Adri-kins? I'm actually a little surprised you came, you know; you generally don't. I remember you would often say "we need to hang out" or "I'll see you soon" when we were younger, but you never really harped on those opportunities. I remember how I used to beg and beg as child, plead even, for you to see me, but there was never any moving you! Or your father; my prayers always fell on empty ears. I remember the last time we spent time like this we were still children, or at least, changing from children to teens. I really liked that idea, you know, changing from one thing to another, going through that process that bugs do—what is it called—metamorphosis? Going from one form to another like a butterfly or a bee. It was always nice to believe we could be something else; there seemed like there was always so much to change. At least, I felt there was. We can't stay that way forever, no matter how cute we were, or at least, how cute I was. Would you believe how dreadful I used to be? I am so glad I grew up since then, could you imagine how it was for everyone to be around someone so unlikable?"

Adrien laughed, and for a second it seemed the black heart flashed.

"We did have some fun times; more than fun, actually, on several occasions. When I look back at those days all I can think of was how free we were, we didn't have to worry about anything. Our actions didn't have consequences, a cause without effect, 'cause rules didn't apply to us: I can't count the amount of times we stole pastries from your Dad's kitchen and event that was on the tame side. I kind of miss that, you know what I mean?" He sipped from his cup and gagged, the acidity of the Arabian beans burning more than the heat of the beverage. "It seems like such a waste to be constricted by the words of others like it is being constricted by the boa of the law. Metamorphosis aside, maybe it wasn't that we needed to change, but that people weren't willing to put up with who we were, then, you know? Like, they were the problem and we were the righteous ones, living life how we wanted and not how others wanted us to live. You don't punish the cactus for its spines, why blame us for our shortcomings?" Adrien took another sip of his drink; he was sure a little added sugar could fix the taste.

Chloe, for her part, felt much the same as Adrien.

"I know, right? If they can't handle the way we are, then they can leave. Laws are only meant to restrict the Princes and the Paupers."

"Agreed!" Adrien exclaimed, taking her hand in his, causing the young maiden to blush more than she had ever before, "you and I are different. No royal blood holds us, and we are too rich to be told what to do." Adrien was acting strange, Chloe thought, but she could not quite place her finger onto why, like a moth hovering above a flame not quite sure if it should touch the heat or enjoy the warmth. "I don't know what it is, Chloe," he continued", but when I woke up this morning, I felt better than I had in a very long time. I wanted to grab the world by the horns and drive it into the ground! I wanted to tell the day that I belongs to me, not I to it. I wanted to be told that I am the only one that matters, not anyone else, but me. Chloe, I felt so good waking up this morning, I felt like I could take on the world!"

Chloe tried pulling herself from his grasp, her form much too embarrassed by the commotion his sudden outburst caused and her own nervousness to facilitated touch for, as embarrassing as it was, she was not used to being touched by others be it those she would consider friends or family.

"Adri-kins, you are playing much too rough, would you please let go?"

"Oh, but my lady, I do believe you enjoy the chase."

As the sun is high in heaven, no one blushed as hard as Chloe did then. "You really are acting quite different today."

"Does my lady object?"

"I never said that."

"But your touch spoke for you."

"My touch cannot speak for my heart which beats louder."

Chloe, as tough as she seemed, was a maiden entranced, much as Elaine from Corbenic had at the sight of her sir knight. "What would you do," she asked, daring not to face the young man," if you did have the power to turn the world?"

"Well for starters," he said grabbing his cup," I would want this place to know what I think of their coffee." Without warning he launched the cup into the store, dowsing several customers and receiving reprimands from many more. Before she could react, Adrien pulled her hand and together they sprinted. The duo ran until they had left the shop long behind.

"What demons have possessed you, Adri-kins? We could have got in a lot of trouble for that!"

"Leave consideration for the poor, Chloe. I've spent enough time living under the rules of others, teachers, friends, my father; I want to do things the way I want to. And I want you there, Chloe. It has been too long since you have been." Chloe wanted to argue back it seemed it was in her nature to do so. But she did not fight against his sentiment. Nay, she wholly welcomed it for, even if it was in extenuating circumstances, Adrien seemed to want her as so few people had ever wanted her before. Not saying anything she took his hand. She would follow him anywhere.

The two passed glanced over a street corner to make sure no police were nearby before they began moving. Chloe, being the more skittish of the two, was sure their crime was already being broadcasted all over Paris and that her father would have to bail her out of it. But as they passed by a local shop they could only see the following on their TV:

"In other news, a new Akumaa named Heartbreaker has appeared, leading citizens to change behaviors and act recklessly, a change which has led to widespread vandalizing across Paris. No one knows why they are doing this; experts say the Akuma is making them do the opposite of what they normally would, but so far nothing has been confirmed. Ladybug has been seen sailing through Paris, but the actual whereabouts of the Heartbreaker are nowhere to be found. Now word yet of Cat Noir. The police are urging people to stay away from anyone exposed to this Akuma. Anyone who has made contact with the Heartbreaker will be marked with a black heart on their body. Citizens are advised to report such citings to the police."

"People can't even walk around Paris without the chance of danger nowadays," Chloe sighed.

"Well, that's why I'm here." Adrien reached an arm around Chloe's shoulder and squeezed tight. The young maiden felt herself grow hot. No matter what danger she would face, she would be fine as long as Adrien was with her.

The day would be a good one.


End file.
